Fate and Fortune (23 page)

‘Aye, you’re right, he was not pleased,’ Hew said thoughtfully. ‘You have suppressed the evidence.’

‘Did I do wrong?

He shook his head. ‘I do not know. But since Richard wants it, let us keep it hidden. Fortune is against us; we must take our chances where they come.’

The next few days were uncomfortable for Hew. Since he could not ask for Richard’s help, he had to make his case alone, and he made little progress. The charge against the pressman had been dropped, on the grounds that Walter could not read. But Walter threw no light upon the mystery. He knew nothing of the paper on the market cross. Hew was working blindly, in the dark. He came often to the door of Richard’s buith, and stopped. He felt a desperate sadness: in his fear for Christian he had lost a tutor and a friend. He missed Richard sorely, on both counts. At home with the Cunninghams, the atmosphere was strained. Hew took refuge in the company of Grace, and as he watched her play, he gave thought to William. Privately, he spoke to Eleanor.

‘May Meg bring William here to play with Grace?’

Eleanor looked taken aback. ‘The printer’s bairn? I do not think so, Hew. Richard would not like it. In truth, he has asked me not to speak with Meg, until the trial is done. It is a very serious charge. He is anxious that we are not tainted by it.’

‘I understand. Then there is no chance, I suppose, of going there with Grace?’ Hew ventured hopefully.

Eleanor shook her head. ‘None at all. You know that Richard does not speak about these things, but he has said enough to make it clear the case is awkward for him. He is embarrassed by your opposition, while you live here in this house. I wish that you would drop it.’

‘I’m afraid that I cannot. Perhaps you would prefer it if I left?’

‘You were always welcomed in this house,’ Eleanor protested warmly, ‘and are welcome still. I hope you have no doubt of Richard’s love for you.’

‘I do not doubt it. And I bitterly regret that I must stand against him.’

‘I cannot pretend to understand it,’ Eleanor said sadly. ‘We must hope and pray it will be over soon. Why did you want the little boy to play with Grace?’

‘He is remote, and will not speak. I hoped the solace of another child might draw him out.’

‘As well it might. There are other children, surely, near his age?’

‘Aye, there must be, surely. But I do not know of any.’

Hew did not entirely let the matter drop, for it came to him again, when Grace was prattling on the stairway to her dolls. Grace possessed two poppets, known to the selected few as Arabella and Celeste. Arabella had a head of German clay and a linen body stuffed with rags; her wardrobe, made by Eleanor, was a replica of Grace’s own. She was said to be long-suffering, sweet-natured and content. Celeste was a Flanders baby, and a wooden fashion doll, discarded by a lady Richard knew at court, when her outfit was no longer
à la mode
. This sense of second best had left her snide and cross. Despite her Flemish origins, she spoke a faltering French, in the manner of the spiteful and despised Jehanne. With these two poppets, Grace rehearsed her daily
tribulations
; while Arabella listened sympathetically, Celeste was cruel and withering.

‘Arabella is good at keeping secrets,’ Hew observed.

The child looked at him suspiciously, assessing whether he was making fun of her. Deciding he was serious, she nodded. ‘She
understands
everything.’

‘That must be a great comfort. May I borrow her?’

An expression of alarm came fleetingly across Grace’s face. She clutched the doll closely towards her. ‘Why?’

‘A little boy I know is very sad,’ Hew explained. ‘Both his mother and his nurse have had to go away. And he has no baby, like Arabella, to talk to. In truth, he is so sad he does not talk at all.’

Grace struggled to make sense of this. She was a kindly child, and she well understood what it was to have a nurse who went away. To lose a mother also must be worse. And she was fond of Hew, and dearly wished to please him. But her love for Arabella must come first. ‘He might have Celeste,’ she offered doubtfully.

Hew considered this. Celeste, for all her finery, was brittle as her nature; her clothes were hung on a tight wire frame, and there was little in her pointed pouting features to attract a two year old. ‘Celeste is not as kind as Arabella,’ he said gently, ‘and I do not think that she would understand as well.’

‘Well then …’ Grace was struggling, ‘you might find a baby in the crames.’

‘What I have in mind requires a special sort of person,’ he said softly, ‘and a special kind of baby, such as Arabella. If you do not want to share her, then I understand.’

‘It is not that …’ She could not bear to disappoint him, and he felt a pang of guilt as he saw the look of anguish in her eyes. ‘It is only … is the little boy so very sad?’

‘He is very, very, sad,’ he told her solemnly.

‘Then if he has Arabella, it will make him more sad when she has to go away. He will want to keep her,’ Grace said desperately.

‘I will make him understand, that he cannot,’ Hew assured her. ‘I promise you, that I will bring her back. I want her only for a day and a night, to see if he will speak to her. Then whether he does or does not, I will bring her back to you.’

‘Only one day?’

‘You have my solemn word. And perhaps,’ he enticed her, ‘Arabella would like a new gown, for her outing.’

Grace shook her head. ‘She wouldn’t. She likes the ones she has,’ she said emphatically. She held out the doll. ‘But
I
would.’

From the savour on the stair, Hew knew at once that Meg was cooking. He found Giles at home, and observed a closeness between husband and wife he had not noticed since his father’s funeral. Perhaps it was the cooking after all, for Meg did not care to be cooked for, while Giles cared very much to be cooked for by his wife. The pot that bubbled now on Christian’s hearth made up for the deficiencies of the west port inn, eclipsing even Bessie Brewster’s pies. ‘You are just in time for dinner,’ Meg smiled up at him. ‘Will you join us? I’m afraid the stew is low on herbs,’ she pulled a face, ‘for there is little to be found here in the town. The spices are not fresh, and there are no proper rigs. I miss the gardens back at Kenly Green.’

‘Doctor Dow has a physic garden at his house on the Cowgate. I will take you there sometime,’ Giles offered. He dipped a finger quickly in the pot and licked it clean. ‘At least you have some meat. We say
pish
to fish,’ he said solemnly to William, who was sitting by the fire.

‘Whisht,’ scolded Meg, ‘you will teach the bairn bad habits. What will his mother say?’

‘He pays no heed,’ protested Giles.

‘You are wrong there, for he follows every word. William, come and wash your face and hands.’ She poured water from a jug into a bowl.

‘It is nearly dinner time.’

‘I have something for him,’ Hew remarked. He brought out Arabella from behind his back. ‘Now I know that you may think it somewhat strange,’ he said hastily to Giles, ‘but it is an experiment, just for a day or two. I hoped it might encourage him to play.’

‘On the contrary,’ said Giles unexpectedly, ‘I see nothing that’s unmanly in a poppet. Provided that he uses it in active play –
active
, mind – and does not mother it, that is a sound idea. Collecting poppets is a manly sport: the kings of France, or so I’m told, keep cabinets full of mannikins.’

‘The kings of France have cabinets full of living ladies,’ Meg said disapprovingly. ‘Nonetheless, it cannot harm. It is a good idea.’

Hew knelt on the floor beside the child. ‘There is someone come to see you,’ he said gravely, ‘and her name is Arabella. She is very good at keeping secrets. I had her from a friend of mine, a little girl called Grace, who wanted very much to come and play with you. Since she may not, she has sent you Arabella in her place.’

The little boy stared at him, considering, before thrusting out his arms to take the doll.

‘Excellent,’ beamed Giles. Now leave him to his play, and come and have some wine. He will do much better if he is not watched.’

He pulled three wooden goblets from the press and began to pour the claret. Meg set up a trestle board, laying down a cloth. From behind them by the fire, they heard a wrenching sound. All three turned at once, to see William shake the doll, so fiercely that the head tore from the cloth. As Meg cried out, he threw the mangled poppet to the ground, and taking up the poker from the fire, smashed it with full force into Arabella’s face. Giles was the first to recover, and to stride across the floor to seize the poker from the child. ‘Now that is quite wrong,’ he advised him sternly, ‘and it will not do at all. When I said
active
play, that was not at all what I meant.’

‘That was naughty, William,’ reinforced Meg. William looked up, his eyes filled with terror, confusion and doubt. Then he spoke out clearly, ‘
It was Davie did it!
’ bursting into sobs. He buried his head in Meg’s skirts.

There was silence for a moment, before Giles summed up quietly. ‘Well, then, now we know. Poor desperate little bairn. And poor old Arabella,’ he observed to Hew.

As counsel, Hew was permitted to see Christian and to take her clean blankets and clothes. He climbed up to the castle, to what appeared the coldest place on earth, standing stark and rigid in the wind. Its bleakness had long since seen off the royal court, to make a warmer palace in the house of Holyrood. The prison was impenetrable as the rock on which it stood. Each outer door that opened with yet another set of keys led deeper down to darkness and despair.

Christian was kept within a holding cell, quite clean and dry, equipped with bed and candle. She had access to a bible, left by Walter Balcanquall, with bread and water daily, and a little ale and broth. Hew found her lying quiet on the bed; she rose to greet him calmly, asking for her child.

‘William is quite well,’ he promised her, taking her cold hands in his. ‘Meg is looking after him. He is almost his old self, and has begun to speak again. He misses you.’

Christian persisted, ‘Who will look after him when I am gone?’

‘Well …’ Hew hesitated, ‘It is to be hoped, that he will be an old man then, and capable of fending for himself. Unless,’ he tried to make her smile, ‘you mean to see him grow into his dotage.’

Christian shook her head. ‘Do not try to humour me. For myself, I am no longer afraid. Walter Balcanquall came today, to pray with me. He was very kind. He says that that he will come again before … After the trial.’

‘You must not talk like this,’ urged Hew. ‘You must be strong. Tell me you have not confessed!’

‘I have not confessed,’ she answered quietly. ‘I do not understand the charge.’

‘The charge is leasing-making,’ he explained to her. ‘That is a form of
lèse-majesté
. You are accused of slandering the Crown.’

‘I understand the crime, as any printer should,’ Christian qualified, ‘but not why we are charged with it. What have we done? For we have printed nothing untoward, except for Catherine’s poems.’

‘It was not the poems. A paper was pinned up upon the market cross that bore your mark, and spoke scandals of the king.’

‘What did it say?’

‘I cannot find that out. We are working in the dark,’ admitted Hew.

‘We did not print any such paper,’ Christian stated. ‘It must be a forgery.’

‘So I believe. Then the essential thing is that you do not confess,’ Hew assured her. ‘Not even to Balcanquall.’

‘The minister said that I was very brave,’ Christian answered wryly. ‘He assumed we made the paper, to expose the weakness of the king. It is a thing that he would do himself, and he admires us for it. He says …’ she faltered, ‘he says that God will look more kindly on our sins. He knows I am to die for it.’

‘Then he is wrong,’ Hew insisted fiercely.

‘The strange thing is,’ she went on, disregarding this, ‘we spoke of Catherine’s poems. And though he told the council who had printed them, he swears he never meant us harm. He said there was fire in his belly and rage, against corruption in the royal court, he wished to stop the channels that gave credence to their lusts. He did not stop to think what it might mean for us. Nor did he mean such hurt to Catherine. He did not even know who she was.’

‘Catherine brought her sorrows on herself,’ Hew answered quietly. ‘But there is malice lies behind this charge, and we must trace it to its source, and face it as we can.’

‘They will not let me speak to Phillip, or to Walter,’ Christian told him sadly.

‘Walter is released, on the grounds he cannot read. On which count, Michael also is excused,’ Hew explained. ‘Phillip is a different matter. He is cited as a witness for the Crown.’

‘That cannot be true,’ Christian flushed. ‘Phillip would not speak against me.’

‘I’m afraid it is true.’

‘Then he has been made to. They are most persuasive here.’ She turned to face the window. ‘I have heard the cries.’

‘Have you any notion what he might say?’

‘There is nothing,’ she asserted, close to tears, ‘that he can say to hurt me, unless it is lies.’

‘Then he will be committing perjury and we shall have to break him. I am so sorry,’ Hew said simply. ‘Yet you must have trust. The good thing is, your trial is very soon, which leaves less time to weaken your resolve. When you come to court, you must not confess. Answer what is put to you, and I will do the rest. Do not confess, but think of William. And, I promise you, all will be well.’

‘I have thought of William often, in the last few days,’ Christian answered softly. ‘I mean my husband, not my son. I think I will be glad to have the chance to see him once again.’

‘Stop this now,’ Hew told her sternly. ‘For you must not think like this.’ He sat down beside her on the bed. ‘Fight this and be strong. You have done nothing wrong.’

‘You said yourself the courts were tainted and corrupt. The world was set against us from the start. I am so very tired. But tell me, if the case goes badly, what becomes of William? Tell me, I must know,’ she pleaded.

‘I will not indulge this.’

‘
Please
. I cannot sleep, for thinking on it.’

‘Aye, very well,’ he sighed. ‘If the case goes badly – and I promise it will not – then I will take him home with me to Kenly Green.’

‘Why would you do you that?’

‘
Because he is a Cullan
,’ Hew almost answered, biting back the words. ‘Because it is a grand place for a child. And if he does not care to live with me, then Giles and Meg will take him to St Andrews. They are very fond of him, and he will like it there.’

‘What is it like?’ she whispered. ‘I have never been.’

‘St Andrews? It lies by the ocean, sheltered in its bay. And there are four main streets, that meet at the cathedral, and the castle on its cliff looks down on all. The thoroughfares are grand and wide. And on the south street, where the merchants have their houses, everything is fair and brightly painted and the street is lined with trees. And all the lands have rigs and gardens, falling out behind. The air is fresh and clear, and the harbour filled with boats, and sometimes, when the waves are high, a light spray showers the city walls, like snow.’

‘That sounds grand. Has
every
house a garden?’ she said drowsily.

‘Every one,’ he answered solemnly. ‘Then there are yellow sands, that lie between the castle and the pier, and eastwards to the kinkell braes and west towards the links, where a little child can run and play, and a pool to bathe in by the rocks.’

‘William would like that.’

‘Aye, he would. And then, when he is grown, we’ll send him to the grammar school, and when he is a little older, to the university. And he will learn to speak his mind, and be the match of kings.’

Christian smiled. ‘I cannot imagine it.’

‘Well then, come and see it,’ Hew declared. ‘When all this is over, why not bring your press, and you and William both shall start afresh. St Andrews wants a printer.’

‘Aye, perhaps.’ She gave a little sigh and closed her eyes.

The guard stood at the door, and motioned Hew to leave. As he went through the gates and heard the last lock click, he saw the lands and tenements that lined the castle hill, the ever upward spiral to the sky. The prison closed around him as he stepped into the air.

Hew had asked Giles to meet him in Christian’s shop. ‘Do you think you could work a printing press?’ he inquired. ‘I could ask Walter, but I dare not trust him. Though he is a good man, he is not one of the sharpest, sad to say.’

‘I should think so,’ Giles agreed cheerfully. ‘What does it require? A little strength? You will find my regimen of exercise has been most beneficial, after all.’

‘Aye, well and good,’ muttered Hew. ‘It is only one sheet. I have learned enough from Phillip to set type, though I will do so slowly.’

‘Splendid! What are we making?’

‘A forgery. But we shall want the help of your good friend Doctor Dow. For he is well known, and above suspicion.’ Hew explained his plan. ‘Will he help us?’

‘Aye, beyond a doubt. He is a player,’ Giles assured him. ‘Do you think the plan will work?’

‘We must hope so. It depends upon the jury. Richard says the jury will accept the simplest explanation.’

‘Very true,’ nodded Giles. ‘And very reasonable.’

‘I never heard you put that case before,’ objected Hew, ‘and I do not want to hear it now; we must prove to them the plainest facts are false. We must make them doubt what they know to be true, and question the evidence before their very eyes.’

‘That will be difficult,’ suggested Giles.

‘It will be hard enough. And even if we do succeed, we will be faced with Phillip. I have no notion what the man will say. And if he swears that Christian made the paper on the cross, our case is lost, before it has begun.’

They worked on in silence a while, and after three or four attempts produced a sheet that satisfied.

‘That’s good,’ accepted Hew. ‘Now can you do the rest with Doctor Dow?’

‘Assuredly. But there is a matter that I wanted to discuss. I fear it will alarm you,’ Giles said gravely.

Hew was disturbed by his tone. ‘So serious! Has there been another death?’

Giles shook his head. ‘This is private … Did you lie with Lady Catherine Douglas?’

Hew gaped in astonishment. ‘Not this again! Giles, when will you stop? You are not my keeper,’ he protested.

‘This is not a jest. That I am prepared to break my oath is a measure of my strong regard for you. I have never in my life betrayed a patient’s secrets. Therefore I pray you understand the severity of this. I ask you again, did you lie with her?’

‘Not in the sense that you mean. The truth is, we flirted, and I was beguiled by her, but she quickly tired of me. There was no
consummation
,’ Hew retorted. ‘Now, let that content you!’

‘It contents me well. Then there is nothing more to say.’

‘Stay, you don’t leave it at that!’ Hew was angry now. ‘You go too far, Giles, even for a brother, even for a friend. You cannot leave it there! Explain yourself!’

Giles stared at him for a moment. At last he said, ‘Aye, very well. Lady Catherine Douglas was arrested yesterday and taken to the castle gaol, where my good friend Doctor Dow was called in to examine her. He found her riddled with disease. She has the
morbus gallicus
.’

‘God save us!’ Hew exclaimed.

‘
You
, in particular,’ his friend replied dryly. ‘Catherine is condemned to exile overseas, until her pollution is spent. Doctor Dow has hopes that she will find a cure.’

‘She is
banished
for the pox! Is sickness a crime? This is horrible, Giles!’

Giles nodded sadly. ‘The truth is Catherine caused offence when her poems were published, for it brought upon the court the censure of the kirk, which led to the displeasure of the king. Therefore Catherine Douglas has been made a scapegoat; her exile makes amends for the court’s humiliation, punishing her for airing its secrets, while giving her up is a sop to the kirk; a proof that immoralities are sought out and oppressed.’

‘Is this the king’s will?’ Hew asked indignantly.

‘The will of his council. These are powers we have no hope of
overthrowing
. Accept it, Hew, and do not lose your way. Catherine’s cause is lost.’

‘I understand,’ Hew answered slowly. ‘Ah, but Giles, the cruelness of it! Doctor Dow has seen her, though; will he not take me to her?’

Giles shook his head. ‘That is impossible. In confiding this to you, I have betrayed his trust.’ He relented, at the anguish on Hew’s face. ‘You have one hope of seeing her. Her ship sails tomorrow, at dawn, from the port of Leith. Be assured, she will be guarded well by soldiers. So stir up no mad plans for springing her release. But if you wish to say farewell, it may be possible.’

‘I thank you,’ Hew said soberly, ‘I do thank you, Giles. I understand what it must cost you to break faith.’

‘As to that,’ Giles replied, with a ghost of a smile, ‘you may have no doubt, I have debated it. And in conclusion find that there are many kinds of faith. It is not law but conscience that determines when they crack.’

At Leith harbour, at first light, Hew could barely see the water for the creeping closeness of the haar. From the huddled smudge of ships a flank of pricking mastheads pierced the sky. He heard soldiers’ voices, ringing clear and crisply through the fog. As they lifted kegs and barrels into boats, Hew saw Catherine brought amongst them, under watchful guard.

‘Let me speak with her, a moment, please,’ he begged. The captain of the guard was ready to refuse, when something in him softened, for he saw his own lass waving from the shore. ‘Aye,’ he muttered gruffly, ‘only for a moment, then,’ and stood a little off, to supervise the loading of the boats.

Catherine gazed at Hew impassively. ‘So, you have found me out. I pray you, do not hate me,’ she said quietly.

Hew answered her hoarsely, ‘Why would I hate you?’

‘For I took you to my bed, knowing that I was infectit with the pox.’

‘Catherine,
why
?’

‘It was evident that you loved Christian, and that Christian loved you. And yet you were so easily lured from her, for all that you did love her, you were willing to betray her love, but for an hour of pleasure, on an empty afternoon. Because you were so easily corrupt, I felt it was no sin to have corrupted you. For your incontinence, I thought you must be equally to blame.’

‘You are wrong about Christian,’ Hew exclaimed fiercely.

‘In the end, you chose Christian, when you left me to look for her child. That was what saved you. But you were willing to deceive her; like a bairn, you came scrabbling at my pockets, in the search for sweets. It grieved me, for I cared for you.’

‘That is hard to believe,’ he accused her.

Catherine sighed. ‘I loved my husband Robert, though he risked it all, to tumble in the sheets. I do not doubt he loved me too, as deep and fierce as I loved him, and yet he did allow himself to be lured, with promises of sticky sweets and comforts, and coming homewards to his wife, infected me.’